This album was nominated for the 2006 Grammy Award for Best Choral Performance.
Recording information: Warsaw Philharmonic Hall (05/27/2003-06/03/2003).

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REVIEW:

Stylistically speaking, A Polish Requiem is remarkably coherent. Penderecki knows how to handle large choral-orchestral forces, and how to develop long paragraphs and build up to well-calculated climaxes, while drawing on a large stylistic palette. A Polish Requiem may not be without "longueurs", but it nevertheless contains many powerful moments that cannot fail to impress.

The present performance conducted by the ever-faithful Antoni Wit is as fine and assured as one may wish. He draws committed and convincing singing and playing from all concerned, to make the best of this substantial work.

– MusicWeb International

This may not be the most harrowing version of the Eighth, but of its type it's unquestionably a great performance. Often this symphony consists of hair-raising climaxes interspersed between acres of nothingness. Not here. This symphony also is one of Shostakovich's most formally masterly and imaginative, and this performance reminds us in the most compelling way. Petrenko's flowing tempos in the first movement and passacaglia keep the music moving, not lurching, forward at all times. The 25 minutes of the first movement seem to pass by in half that time. Its opening threnody in particular has even more expressive power than usual for being phrased in long melodic arcs that never turn static.

After an aptly gawky scherzo, the toccata is as brilliant and menacing as any (with a dashingly militant central section), but it's the finale that really sets the seal on this performance. The Eighth always is a tough piece to project convincingly, but Petrenko is at his absolute best here, pacing the music perfectly and timing the climax in such a way that (for once) it doesn't sound like a less impressive recapitulation of the first movement--and this isn't because its previous occurrence is underplayed in any way. Excellent playing from all departments of the orchestra plus vividly natural engineering complete what is easily the best installment of this ongoing cycle to date.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Astor Piazzolla' tangos, beloved around the world for their pathos, passion, longing and sensibility, are here given fresh interpretations in arrangements for piano by the Argentinean-born, Brussels-based pianist Aquiles Delle-Vigne.

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Joaquin Turina made an outstanding contribution to Spanish piano repertoire, along with Falla, Alb'niz, Granados and Mompou.

With this disc, Naxos completes its survey of ballet scores by Sir Arthur Bliss (1891?1975). Previously released were Adam Zero, generously coupled with Bliss?s A Colour Symphony in performances by the English Northern Philharmonia under David Lloyd-Jones (8.553460), and Miracle in the Gorbals, coupled with music from the film Things to Come and Discourse for Orchestra, with Christopher Lyndon-Gee conducting the Queensland Symphony Orchestra (8.553698). In each case, Naxos presents, for the first time, the full ballet scores rather than suites. Much as I have enjoyed recordings of suites from all three ballets, the music is of such a quality, and so symphonic as well as dramatic in concept, that listening to the suites is rather like hearing an abridged Mahler First, or excerpts from Strauss?s Don Quixote: pleasant, but unsatisfactory. The Checkmate Suite recordings I own on CD?Vernon Handley and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic on EMI (1978) and Handley again with the Ulster Orchestra on Chandos (1986)?are excellent as to performance and recording, but sadly incomplete. The suite is the same in both, consisting of six of the first seven numbers, but none of the next five, which include the longest and most dramatic movements in the score. Both conclude with an abbreviated version of the finale.


Checkmate tells a grim story, fantastic in conception: Love and Death play a game of chess, but the pieces are human, and not endowed with equal powers. The Black Queen is beautiful, evil, and powerful; neither the Red King nor his Queen can stand against her. The Red Knight can, but falls under the Black Queen?s enchantment long enough for her to slay him. Naxos provides excellent notes by Andrew Burn, so one can follow this drama to its tragic dénouement. Checkmate had its premiere in Paris in 1937; like the First Symphony of William Walton and the Fourth of Vaughan Williams, Bliss?s score seems especially appropriate to the times. The much shorter Mêlée fantasque (1921), while not exactly cheerful, seems by contrast a robustly optimistic piece, even while memorializing a deceased friend and collaborator, the painter Claude Lovat Fraser.


The Scottish Orchestra plays with its usual energy and brilliance, and the sound is vivid, colorful, and, where appropriate, seismic. What a pleasure, at last to hear the complete Checkmate!


FANFARE: Robert McColley

Although best known for his film music, William Alwyn composed five symphonies (among other concert works). Symphony No. 1 unsurprisingly marries symphonic form to an engaging dramatic narrative. The first movement's slow, quiet introduction is pregnant with anticipation of the conflict to come, while the moving Adagio features one of those irresistibly hummable movie-style tunes. And connoisseurs of classic film cannot help but conjure cinematic images as they listen to Alwyn's triumphant, brassy Allegro jubilante finale. But even without such associations, the First is a fine symphony in its own right.


The three-movement Symphony No. 3 is even more compelling. Alwyn states that he used a "new kind of 12-note system", but the resulting music is certainly not atonal. Indeed, much of it has a modal quality similar to Vaughan Williams--a similarity that extends to the music's formal plan, warlike character, and sometimes even the orchestration (the brass writing in the first movement, and the woodwind/string interplay of the finale's "scherzo" section)--all of which are reminiscent of that composer's Sixth Symphony. But Alwyn's own voice predominates, and the symphony is enjoyable for its powerfully argued rhetoric and taut thematic construction. Conductor David Lloyd-Jones certainly believes in this music, as he demonstrates in these winning performances with the excellent Royal Liverpool Philharmonic. Naxos provides first-rate sound.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

This disc brings us three of Vaughan Williams?s finest song cycles, and the single song Linden Lea , and the combination is very satisfying. Vaughan Williams wrote some of the 20th century?s most beautiful and evocative songs, songs that sound like no other composer and that stay long in the memory after one gets to know them. Vaughan Williams had a keen ear for text-setting, and is one of the rare 20th-century composers whose music amplifies the poems he set without overwhelming them.


This is a lovely compilation, featuring some of the composer?s most effective works in this form. The performances are very good, without erasing the best competition from one?s mind. Roderick Williams is an intelligent and musical singer, with a pleasant light baritone voice. The tone is a bit throaty, but not offensively so, and he sings with a reasonably strong feel for dramatic inflection. There is no question that those who find this repertoire appealing will enjoy this disc, although Naxos could have helped improve that enjoyment by providing texts.


It is when we start comparing with the best competition that the limitations of these performances become clear. Benjamin Luxon?s richly colored and imaginatively inflected performances of the Songs of Travel and Poems by Fredegond Shove (Chandos CHAN 8475), Anthony Rolfe Johnson?s similarly effective recording of the Songs of Travel and The House of Life (EMI 75785) are both more satisfying recordings, not to mention Bryn Terfel?s remarkable reading of the Songs of Travel (DG 445 946), which is coupled with other English songs.


Still, if you own none of this repertoire and find this particular compilation an effective program, Williams and Burnside give good, solid performances that make clear the composer?s genius in this idiom.


FANFARE: Henry Fogel

Günther Herbig knew the Berlin Symphony Orchestra well, even before being made Principal Conductor in 1977 of what is now the Konzerthaus orchestra. He had deputized in that post from 1966 to 1972. Solo flautist Richard Waage, an orchestra member from 1961 to 2002, also valued the work ethic of his Principal Conductor – notably when it came to the execution of solo parts. “With Herbig things were ‘more open’, when you had worked your way into a certain context, than with other conductors. He allowed you more freedom.” On one occasion when he had the opportunity to see Herbig’s conducting score, he was impressed by how every harmonic step was marked, so that the score bore traces of a musicological analysis. Solo flautist Richard Waage, an orchestra member from 1961 to 2002, also valued the work ethic of his Principal Conductor – notably when it came to the execution of solo parts. “With Herbig things were ‘more open’, when you had worked your way into a certain context, than with other conductors. He allowed you more freedom. You could offer more as an individual. I liked that a lot.” On one occasion when he had the opportunity to see Herbig’s conducting score, he was impressed by how every harmonic step was marked, so that the score bore traces of a musicological analysis. “This was the mathematical impulse” characteristic, he judged, of Herbig’s way of working. This architectural, formally structured approach to the music fitted well with the recording technique of those days, which did not allow breakdown into such small steps as today. Arches of tension thus sound more plausible, because there are fewer pieces to put together. “When you have long takes, of course that makes it all more organic,” concludes Richard Waage. It will surely have been these working conditions and the conductor’s specific style that made it possible, even in such an unpretentious piece as the Pavane, “to bring out the character of mourning”, which so moved Jürgen Kögel and other participants. This recording contains Ravel’s symphonic works La Valse, Ma Mère l'Oye, Pavane pour une infante défunte and last but not least the famous Bolero.

The New Haven Symphony Orchestra (NHSO) and the Yale University Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library are pleased to collaborate on the William Walton Project. The Frederick R. Koch Collection, housed at the Beinecke Library, contains the world's largest archive of Walton's original manuscripts. This project presents a unique opportunity for Walton's music to be "brought to life," using these manuscripts as the source of preparation for performances.

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BLOCH Voice in the Wilderness. Schelomo. CAPLET Épiphanie. RAVEL 2 Mélodies hébraïques: Kaddisch (arr. Ravel) • Raphael Wallfisch (vc); Benjamin Wallfisch, cond; BBC Natl O of Wales • NIMBUS 5913 (75:13)


This album holds deep personal significance for the performers. In a video interview released in promotion of it, Raphael Wallfisch discusses his conception of the program as a memorial to his family, particularly his four grandparents, who perished in the Holocaust. Having engaged his son, Benjamin, to conduct the recording, Wallfisch views it as both a musical and a familial statement. Additionally, Wallfisch emphasizes the vivid “cinematic” drama of the Bloch pieces, for which he considered his son’s close involvement with film music to be a natural fit.


Given these factors, it is not surprising that the Wallfisches’ performances on this disc are rhapsodic and dramatic. And that is what this music demands. The two Bloch pieces, when played well, can be shattering experiences for the listener: unremittingly grim, with the cello as tormented protagonist. The Ravel Kaddisch , based on a traditional cantorial melody, captures the outermost depths of reverence and mourning. And Caplet’s rarely-performed Épiphanie is an ecstatic portrayal of an Ethiopian telling of the Adoration of the Magi. There is no moderation of emotion in these works; this is music to captivate, move, and overwhelm the listener.


Bloch’s Voices in the Wilderness was written in 1936, a period during which he produced some of his most substantial works. (The Sacred Service was composed in 1933 and the piano sonata in 1935.) It was originally conceived for cello and piano, and was reworked for piano solo as Visions and Prophecies , which presents the orchestral expositions to the first five pieces. Familiarity with both versions provides an intriguing contrast; the role of the cello in Voices in the Wilderness is one of commentator on the orchestral material presented in the first half of each movement. As evidenced by Visions and Prophecies , this material can succeed on its own; it is not simply introductory but traces a complete musical arc. Is the cello response therefore redundant? Some movements work better than others. The second, for example, is atmospheric and pensive in the orchestral section. It ends with an upward, questioning melodic gesture. Left here in the Visions and Prophecies , the question lingers enigmatically. In Voices in the Wilderness , the cello begins its response with outraged scales. The orchestral accompaniment thickens and becomes more dissonant. In this movement, the second half constitutes a reassessment of the ideas presented in the first half rather than simply an elaboration of them. The third movement’s exposition, majestic with vivid coloration unavailable to a solo piano, feels like a public statement of triumph and benefits from the individual perspective offered by the cello response; moreover, it is brief enough that its restatement is not unwelcome. But the foreboding first movement achieves its full emotional impact and reaches a convincing full stop before the cello entrance, as does the idyllic fourth movement. Finally, the coda to the fifth movement ends in such eloquent silence as to render the boisterous sixth movement almost disruptive. Qualms about the composition’s structure aside, Wallfisch’s playing exhibits an impressive range of emotion, texture, and color. His cadenza in the fifth movement is especially effective in its bold, emphatic statements and its relentless build.


Ravel’s Kaddisch was composed in 1914 for piano and voice as one of the 2 Mélodies hébraïques . Ravel orchestrated both songs in 1919–20. Wallfisch’s approach to the melody is appropriately improvisatory in its fluctuations of tempo and sudden shifts of dynamics. He even produces some strikingly vocal portamentos. But without the words, much of the emotional impact of the piece is lost. This is not simply because of the profundity of the text; rather, the articulation of specific consonants and vowels has a timbral effect that cannot be replicated instrumentally. Additionally, the orchestration obscures the insistent treble octaves that provide the focal point of the original piano accompaniment. Ravel was a masterful orchestrator, and this version of the Kaddisch is musically pleasing, but it does not have the impact of the original.


André Caplet’s Épiphanie has been recorded only a handful of times—inexplicably for such an accessible and attractive work, and one that offers the soloist a true virtuoso spectacle. The piece is in two large movements connected by an extended solo cadenza. Though subtitled “Musical Fresco after an Ethiopian Legend,” the first movement is solidly in the sound world of Impressionism—perhaps closer to Roussel than to Debussy in its harmonic palette. The feeling is sunny and ingratiating throughout. The cello part features extended pizzicato passages and frequent harmonics. The cadenza is accompanied by a pedal tone in the double basses and by a quiet, steady drumbeat, which the program notes identify as “a characteristically Ethiopian element.” The cadenza itself sounds fairly European, despite some pentatonic material and occasional uses of the Semitic scale. This is not a complaint; the music is impassioned and colorful, and Wallfisch’s playing is commanding. The second movement, the “Danse des Petits Negrès,” takes a more exotic tone with a rapid, heavily-accented 5/4 meter and a repeated whirling motif in the cello. Brief musical phrases, repeated in groups of two, create a “primitive” effect. The constant repetition becomes predictable, and the Orientalist subtext is highly dated. But the movement is generally exciting, especially in its final pages.


Bloch’s Schelomo is the most widely-performed work on the disc. It is here that the Wallfisches are most open to comparison. Were I not familiar with the Rostropovich/Bernstein recording of the piece, I would be unreserved in my praise of the current performance. And indeed, it is a very fine performance: imposing, brooding, and highly effective. But where Wallfisch rages, Rostropovich thunders. Where Wallfisch sobs, Rostropovich wails. The same can be said of the conducting: Wallfisch’s Schelomo is dramatic but does not quite achieve the gripping immediacy of Bernstein’s. It is nonetheless a vivid and moving rendition of the piece, and the disc as a whole makes for very rewarding listening. Excellent, vivid sound engineering is a welcome bonus.


FANFARE: Myron Silberstein

The Fitzwilliam String Quartet celebrates a remarkable milestone with this special fiftieth anniversary recording of Shostakovich’s last three string quartets. Fittingly, this landmark recording will look back to the music which first propelled the Fitzwilliam to international prominence. Shostakovich entrusted the Fitzwilliam with the western premieres of his last three quartets (Nos. 13, 14, 15), and before long they had become the first ever group to perform and record all fifteen, winning many international awards along the way. The highly innovative String Quartet No.13 is notable for its unique single-movement form and the virtuosic viola writing, which shines a spotlight on founding member Alan George. No.14, despite its twelve-tone structure, is perhaps the most accessible of Shostakovich’s late quartets with a wealth of identifiable melodies. The six movements of No.15 are profoundly melancholic and intimate, with the composer’s obsession with death a clear influence. The Fitzwilliam’s pre-eminence in the interpretation of these works has persisted: Benjamin Britten reported after Shostakovich’s death in 1975 that the composer had told him the Fitzwilliam were his ‘preferred performers of my quartets’.

We know L’Éventail de Jeanne (Jeannes’s Fan), a collaborative ballet in ten movements by ten composers, primarily from Ravel’s opening Fanfare and Poulenc’s Pastourelle, but the other numbers have plenty of appeal. Roussel’s bittersweet Sarabande adds weight to an otherwise frothy brew, while Florent Schmidt’s concluding Kermesse-Valse provides a buoyant concluding apotheosis. Other savory bits include a polka by Darius Milhaud and perky Canarie by Alexis Roland-Manuel, but it’s all good fun and played here with exemplary spirit and point by John Axelrod and the Loire ensemble.

Here’s an interesting tidbit. Poulenc’s Pastourelle appears to be a nearly literal crib from the “Balalaika” movement that concludes Stravinsky’s Suite No. 1 for small orchestra (sound clips). I wonder if this was noticed at the time?

Ravel’s Mother Goose makes a logical coupling–another children’s ballet, composed and scored with a similarly light touch. Axelrod’s is a sensitive performance, a touch on the slow side, perhaps, but well-proportioned and sensitively detailed. The orchestra plays quite well, with the many woodwind solos sweet and smooth, if perhaps lacking the ultimate character that we hear from Martinon (EMI/Warner) or Ozawa (DG). Axelrod dwells lovingly on the concluding Fairy Garden, and when the music is so beautiful who can blame him? This disc, in short, is a joy. Don’t overlook it.

– ClassicsToday (David Hurwitz)

Full of challenges, from the pioneering mathematical influences, to unusual notation and virtuosic performance requirements, many classify Xenakis' compositions as unplayable, but KUNIKO's unrivalled prowess sees her perfectly realise the composer's vision. Pléïades explores a rich variety of percussive sounds and textures; marimba, vibraphone, xylophone, xylo-marimba and drums create a sound world of rhythmic complexity and vibrant colours. Uniquely, Pléïades also requires a SIXXEN, an instrument designed by Xenakis and customised by KUNIKO, who hand-selected 120 metal bars to craft the perfect sound.

Since becoming a percussion soloist, Rebonds is a piece that KUNIKO has been playing and performing throughout her entire career. After hearing this performance of Xenakis' popular piece, renowned percussionist Sylvio Gualda congratulated KUNIKO on her ‘marvellous' interpretation.

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FRANÇAIX Scherzo. 5 Portraits de jeunes filles. Eloge de la danse. Piano Sonata. 5 Encores. Danse des 3 Arlequins. 8 Variations. Nocturne. 3 Equisses sur les touches blanches. La Promenade d’un Musicologue Eclectique. De la Musique avant tout chose. Pour Jacqueline. Si Versailles m’etait conté. Scuola di Ballo. 1 8 Danses exotiques. 1 15 Portraits d’enfants d’Auguste Renoir. 2 Napoléon 2 • Martin Jones, 1 Richard McMahon, 2 Adrian Farmer (pn) • NIMBUS NI 5880/2 (3 CDs: 19:05)


Had Jean Françaix been born a decade or so earlier, we would be referring to Les Sept rather than Les Six. As it was, the French-polished and long-lived composer (1912–97) followed in the footsteps of his slightly older confrères, particularly Poulenc, in typifying the French style of his era: witty, light-hearted, and insouciant. Françaix’s music derives from the bouncy rhythms and diatonic melodies of French folk music, but mixes in the vulgarity of the boulevard, the harmonic asperity of Stravinsky, and an occasional hint of 1920s jazz, all done with assured craftsmanship. While many of his concertos have been recorded—the best-known are the sprightly Piano Concertino (1932) and the Clarinet Concerto—Françaix’s output for solo piano has not. The only previous recordings I discovered are by Annette Middlebeek on a hard-to-find Koch disc from 2001, and another from 2008 by Nicole Narboni on the obscure label CDBY, which I have never heard of. (The latter recital is intriguingly promoted as “Narboni on Food, Felines, Fathers, and Jean Françaix.”) I did not manage to do any comparative listening—my order of the Koch disc failed to materialize by deadline— but in any case this new Nimbus set trumps both in terms of completeness alone.


Although Françaix was an expert orchestrator, probably more skilled than Poulenc, whose Story of Babar the Elephant he arranged for orchestra, the younger composer first made his mark as a pianist. He continued to play throughout his life, not only his own works but also music by other composers, often teaming with the cellist Maurice Gendron. Many of his compositions involve piano, and I notice a three-disc set of chamber music with the composer at the piano is scheduled to be released late in 2012 (this being the year of Françaix’s centenary, of course).


Meanwhile, we have the indefatigable Martin Jones to bring us up to speed on the keyboard works. The set opens with the early, mostly staccato Scherzo, a favorite of the composer that he played often, and it shows him at his most deft in its clarity and harmonic sleight of hand. The Scherzo sets the tone for the rest of the program and is tossed off with perfect élan here by Jones. Françaix preferred miniatures, and many of the larger works are in fact suites made up of several short movements. Some, such as the oddly titled Promenade d’un Musicologue Eclectique , are composed of tributes to other composers such as Chopin, Ravel, and Adam. Françaix always sounds like himself, but Ravel was clearly a major influence along with Chabrier and, to some extent, Satie. We might expect a work titled Piano Sonata to be more serious in tone but that expectation is quickly dashed; the first movement scampers off like a French poodle. (The same thing happens in the composer’s one symphony.) The sonata’s second movement (Elégie) features an Impressionistic bell-like accompaniment. Timing is one of the composer’s finest assets: Nothing outstays its welcome, and just as one might be tiring of high spirits a pensive moment of lyricism comes along, like the lovely “La Tendre” in the Five Portraits of Young Girls suite. The gentle Nocturne’s arpeggiated left hand registers like updated Fauré, and it is this piece, the composer’s final composition for solo piano (1994), that brings the first disc to a close.


In the duo and two-piano works Jones is joined by Richard McMahon or Adrian Farmer. The Eight Exotic Dances of 1957 draw on popular Latin and jazz forms. The final movement is titled Rock’n’roll but it is far more jazz than rock, a musical genre too earthy for the fastidious Françaix, I suspect. Napoléon and Si Versailles m’etait conté are two-piano arrangements of music from films, while Scuola di ballo is a ballet score from 1933, which, 30 years later, the composer reworked for himself and his daughter Claude to play. The resulting score is more elaborate than a mere reduction, as you will hear if you compare it to the orchestral version recorded by Thierry Fischer and the Ulster Orchestra (Hyperion). It draws on music by Boccherini in much the same way as Stravinsky reinterpreted Pergolesi in Pulcinella , and forms a joyous finale to the program.


Devotees of piano music and avowed completists owe a lot to Martin Jones, truly one of the finest of British pianists. For Nimbus he has recorded a good deal of Spanish music (including multiple discs of Mompou), a Czerny series, Szymanowski, and several others. He is a sparkling technician, but beyond that he always manages to sound utterly sympathetic in the music he chooses to record. His partners in this enterprise are equally at home; McMahon, for one, has a formidable reputation in duet work. Nimbus’s recording strikes me as perfect; as usual, there is air around the sound but it is never muddy, always crisp, and suits the piano to a T. While it may be asking too much to listen to the three discs straight through (though I did so without any ill effect, several times), this is undoubtedly a delightful set to dip into and certainly a significant addition to the catalog.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

Gustav Holst’s youthful enthusiasm for Wagner is reflected in his ebullient Walt Whitman overture written in 1899. Shortly afterwards he composed the Cotswolds Symphony which embraces hints of contemporary British folk music but is dominated by the slow movement, a profound elegy for the utopian socialist William Morris. Though completed at college, A Winter Idyll shows real orchestral assurance. Indra is an accomplished tone poem revealing Holst’s interest in the legends of India, whilst the glittering and evocative Japanese Suite was written in response to a request from a Japanese dancer appearing in London. The Ulster Orchestra is one of Northern Ireland’s cultural cornerstones and since its foundation in 1966 has become one of the major symphony orchestras in the United Kingdom and Ireland. JoAnn Falletta was appointed Principal Conductor in May 2011, the orchestra’s twelfth but first female and first American to be appointed to the post.

REVIEW:

All of this music is early with the exception of the Japanese Suite, and all of it has appeared on CD before, most notably (with the exception of the symphony) on the superb series of Holst discs issued over the years by Lyrita with such luminaries as Adrian Boult, David Atherton, and Nicholas Braithwaite at the helm. I would never want to part with those three Lyrita discs, but I find this new Naxos disc just as satisfying, and Falletta’s generally more inward, reflective style offers new insights. That it contains a performance of Holst’s only completed orchestral symphony, which gives the work new stature, only adds to its value as an addition to a discography understandably, but regrettably, dominated by one magnificent work. While only one of these works qualifies as a mature composition in a distinctive voice, even the student-written A Winter Idyll shows its composer in a good light, and proves that while fame may have eluded him until midlife, it was not for lack of talent or skill.

A Winter Idyll, the Walt Whitman Overture, and the “Cotswolds” Symphony, all effectively apprentice works written between 1897 and 1900, owe much to the example of the great German Romantics. The influence of Mendelssohn and Schumann in particular should not be surprising given Holst’s then-recent tutelage by Stanford and Parry at the Royal College of Music. And even a casual listener to the symphony will be able to guess that Holst was then much taken with Wagner. What is notable, however, is just how effectively he has already incorporated these voices into one of his own, albeit one less individual than that of the composer of The Planets, or Egdon Heath, or even Beni Mori of but a few years hence.

The symphony has had one previous recording on Classico with Douglas Bostock conducting. It is still available on other reissue labels, but Falletta’s performance improves on the earlier effort in every way. Tighter and weightier than Bostock in the main—though the scherzo is engagingly quicksilver—she convinces one that the symphony is much more than just a frame for the moving elegy for socialist visionary William Morris that comprises the second movement. Falletta similarly finds new depth in the transitional symphonic poem Indra (1903), emphasizing atmosphere and warmth where the alternative reading by Atherton inclines more toward brilliance and contrast.

The Japanese Suite is the one work here that is representative of the mature Holst, to the extent that any work can be said to represent a composer who notoriously hated to repeat himself. It reflects his developing interests in things Asian, and in folk music, and it shows him free of the old-school German romantic model. It was written in 1915 in response to a commission from Japanese dancer Michio Ito for a London recital, and so is exactly contemporaneous with The Planets. In fact, Holst stopped work on the larger suite to write the smaller one, and many ideas found in the former are adapted to the scale and delicacy of this attractive work that has been unfairly overshadowed by its bigger and more flamboyant sibling.

Its neglect may to some degree reflect the challenge it offers the conductor. Neither Falletta nor Andrew Davis in the other currently available recording on Chandos can match the character of Boult’s recording on Lyrita. More than either, Boult and the late-’60s London Symphony Orchestra bring out, through canny pacing, phrasing, and articulation of these haunting ancient tunes, the Japanese flavor Ito sought in this work. Falletta’s performance is still wonderfully sensitive and perfectly scaled, but here I must register my one clear preference for an alternative.

That said, clearly there is some good chemistry going in Ulster between its fine orchestra and the new American principal conductor. One can only hope that there will be many more releases like this in the future, and in the superb sound provided by the Grammy-winning producer and engineer, Tim Handley and Phil Rowlands. Definitely a winner.

FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

The coordination of the partners is marvelous, the variety of the sounds they produce is spectacular, and the feeling of the right sound at the right moment is priceless.

Gustav Holst was the Director of Music of St. Paul’s Girls’ School in London between the years 1905 and 1934. John York is currently the Senior Music Head of Department at the same school. It happened that in this school, in a cupboard of Holst’s room, John York found a leather-bound, engraved copy of Holst’s The Planets, arranged for 4 hands, one piano. The version was prepared with the help of two of Holst’s colleagues, Nora Day and Vally Lasker. Additional editing was done by John and Fiona York.
 
The 4-hand version is no substitute for the full orchestral one. This is probably most apparent in the opening number, Mars. The timbre of the heavy brass, like bellowing of battle elephants, colors this orchestral sound in violent dark red. Much of the musical progression is repetitive. In the full version this is concealed behind the constant change of color; the piano is not able match this ability completely. As a result, the music drags a bit. The final climax also loses much of its cosmic horror.
 
In the beginning of the static and mysterious Venus I get a feeling that a softer touch would have been better. But the further in the more I become enthralled by these impressionistic splashes, and the last minutes are magical. It’s possible that the performers deliberately avoided excessive softness, in order not to fall into the standard Debussian watercolors.
 
John York wrote in the liner-note that Mercury gave them the most trouble. Whatever their problems were, the pianists overcame them. The rhythmic precision is stunning. The silver glitter is dry and not too warm: the taste of Brut Champagne, exactly as needed.
 
Holst’s Jupiter is The Bringer of Jollity – and, surprisingly, that’s exactly what the music depicts: jollity, not solemnity, or grandeur, or other possible attributes of The Supreme One. This is Sir John Falstaff, dancing as he arrives, and humming the most hummable tunes! The music is not vulgar: there is much nobility in the Elgarian melodies, especially in the stately middle episode. This middle episode has the British imperial air around it, and the pianists play it with restraint. The performance is splendid, lively and bright, excellently conveying Holst’s humor. Music to raise your spirits!
 
Saturn is The Bringer of Old Age. Nothing is easy when you’re old, and the music breathes with an effort. Its steps are heavy. The middle episode quickens the tempo, and the tension grows. The climax is dark and heavy, though not as sinister as in the orchestral version. In the final part, the texture brightens and warms. There appear to be some good things in old age after all!
 
Uranus, the Magician seems to be a good pal of Dukas’s Sorcerer. In the orchestral version, the feeling of galloping power is created by mighty brass and colorful percussion. The piano version avoids being flat by using different registers. John and Fiona produce some spectacular fireworks here.
 
The soft shimmer and shine of the full-version of Neptune is painted by gentle woodwinds and by the mystic, wordless women’s choir, like voices of sea sirens coming through the fog. The Yorks manage to reproduce this misty atmosphere. Again, their piano does not sound for a single moment like Debussy: the sound is focused and well defined, and this only increases the depth and the mystery. Certainly, the finale of the original Neptune is unique, and there can’t be a substitute for that feeling of awe when the mesmerizing chorus enters. It’s out of this world, in all senses. But apart from this, frankly, I think that the Yorks hit the bull’s eye. The tempo, the dynamics, the viscid drift, the slowly swirling clouds – all is perfect.
 
It is very interesting to hear how such a rich orchestral score as The Planets can be rendered on a single piano. After listening to the entire suite, the conclusion has to be that the piano is a fantastic instrument! One should know all its psychology, but Fiona and John York don’t seem to lack anything here. Their sound is so different in each piece. My minor objections are mostly about Mars (I still find it drags after many listenings) and the beginning of Venus. But I understand that they can’t play much more than is in the notes, and the level of polish and attention that the composer devoted to this transcription certainly cannot compare to those that the orchestral version received.
 
As a fill-up we have some less familiar music: the Suite No.1 by York Bowen, to which the pianists added the Finale movement from the Suite No.2. This was a smart decision: the first suite, ending on the lyrical Nocturne, would sound incomplete, and with the added Finale it obtains a closed 4-movement structure, similar to Rachmaninov’s Second Suite. The Prelude has a wide Romantic flow, with rising and falling tides. It is warm and ecstatic, and sounds a lot like Rachmaninov, though with a simpler harmonic structure. The second part is entitled Dance, which does not seem to me a good description of its character. Its structure is tripartite. The outer parts are fast and cheerful, almost march-like. The middle episode is slower, more lyrical, and very songlike. The entire construction seems overlong for its contents. Nocturne again borrows some melodic and harmonic moves from Rachmaninov (or, through him, from Borodin). It is warm and sensual, and builds to a dramatic climax. The music has movement and depth. John and Fiona give it a beautiful and expressive – I’d even say, loving - performance. The Finale is mercurial and happy. It has some nice Lisztian waterplay, and ends just at the right moment.
 
This disc is a piano duo feast. The coordination of the partners is marvelous, the variety of the sounds they produce is spectacular, and the feeling of the right sound at the right moment is priceless. Regrettably, the music itself has a certain second-hand feeling, though for different reasons. The 4-hand version of The Planets is a faithful portrait of the full version, but much is lost. However excellent the playing, I doubt I’ll ever take it to listen when I have the orchestral version next to it on the shelf. And Bowen’s work could too easily be attributed to Rachmaninov. No doubt, another “Rach” piano suite is a good thing, but it’s not quite on the same level of inspiration.
 
Still – my standing applause to York2, who once again prove their reputation as a “duo with a difference”! Where can I get in line for their future discs? The recorded sound can be bettered in terms of depth and presence. It is clear, but somewhat two-dimensional. The booklet contains an excellent essay by John York about the history of creation of The Planets (both the original and the piano version), and more.
  -- Oleg Ledeniov, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

Rafael Aguirre is acknowledged as one of today’s most celebrated virtuoso guitarists, having won first prize at 13 of the world’s most prestigious international competitions: a record-breaking achievement for a Spanish musician. Following on from his previous, acclaimed recording (8.572064), this full-blooded recital is of music by Spanish composers or those influenced by Iberia, from the pure flamenco of Paco de Lucía’s Guajiras to Debussy’s impressionistic Soirée dans Grenade, and from Albéniz’s Triana, named after the gypsy quarter in Seville, to the virtuoso fireworks of Tárrega’s Gran Jota.

Since the revival of so-called Entartete Musik in the 1990s, interest in Karl Ignaz Weigl’s music has grown but he still remains a largely unknown figure to most listeners. Weigl was born in Vienna in February 1881 and had private composition lessons with Alexander Zemlinsky, a family friend. By the early-1920s, Weigl was an established figure in the musical landscape of Vienna and it was probably for this reason that he was approached by the one-armed pianist Paul Wittgenstein to compose a left-hand piano concerto. Paul’s family fortune enabled him to commission some of the most eminent composers of the day to write works specially for him: Korngold, Britten, Hindemith, Prokofiev, Ravel, Franz Schmidt, Richard Strauss and Karl Weigl.

Unfortunately, for reasons unknown, Wittgenstein failed to perform Weigl’s concerto. Thus it was that the concerto received its belated premiere in 2002 in Vienna by Florian Krumpöck, the soloist on the present recording. Despite his no doubt discouraging experience with Wittgenstein, Weigl returned to the concerto medium four years later with a violin concerto.

It can be hoped that recordings such as the present one will help to further draw attention to his large and varied output which may yet contribute to the repertoire it was designed to enrich. - Capriccio

RICHARD STRAUSS: June Anderson; Roberta Sacca; Scott Mac Allister; Daniel Lewis Williams; Birgit Remmer; Orchestra e Coro del Teatro La Fenice di Venezia/Stefan Anton Reck; Paul Curran, director; NTSC All Region; DTS 5.1; PCM Stereo 2.0; Color; 16:9; 114 mins; Subtitled in Ita RICHARD STRAUSS: Daphne.

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.


Villa-Lobos' late masterpiece, Forest of the Amazon, began life as a Hollywood film score, the majority of which was never used. So he developed the music into a huge, 80-minute-long, multi-movement suite that serves both as a tribute to his homeland and a fitting culmination of his personal musical voice. The work has everything: luscious orchestration, great tunes, a "primitive" male choir chanting in a primordial language, some lovely songs for soprano, and passages of wordless vocalise for the same singer evocative of exotic birdsong. Does it sound "Hollywood-esque"? Yes, but only to the extent that Villa-Lobos often works in a similar idiom anyway. More significantly, the piece is chock-full of contrast--but there are also recurring elements (the War Dance, for example) that help to bind it together and give it shape. It's not just 80 minutes of "atmosphere".

The only competition for this recording, for which a new edition of the score was specially prepared, comes from Alfred Heller's very good Moscow recording, which contains a touch less music. Certainly in terms of sheer sonic opulence, the performers' ability to project the style with total confidence and commitment, and the excellence of the singing (soprano Anna Korondi is superb), this vividly engineered SACD sets a new standard. If you've been collecting this Brazilian music series (and you certainly should be), then this new release will be self-recommending. It's simply magnificent.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

Internationally, Lahti Symphony Orchestra is closely associated with the numerous Sibelius recordings released on BIS, conducted by their long-time chief conductor Osmo Vänskä. These recordings have received an overwhelming international welcome among reviewers, but also among record-buyers: as of August 2009 more than one million Lahti discs released by BIS have been sold! As many already know, the orchestra does not only play works by Sibelius - its recordings of music by contemporary Finnish composers such as Rautavaara, Kalevi Aho and Joonas Kokkonen have all met with critical acclaim. Led by Jukka-Pekka Saraste, its present chief conductor, the orchestra now takes a step eastwards, and performs two symphonies by the Ukrainian composer Valentin Silvestrov. Having as a student absorbed the music of Webern, Scriabin and the new Polish school, in the 1970s Silvestrov moved away from avant-garde techniques and became increasingly involved with the idiom of 19th-century song: 'It seems to me that music is song in spite of everything, even when it is unable to sing in a literal sense. Not a philosophy, not a system of beliefs, but the song of the world about itself, and at the same time a musical testament to existence.' To date, Silvestrov has composed seven symphonies, of which the Fourth (1976) and the Fifth (1980-82) are both dominated by a longing for a beauty that used to be, but is no longer within reach. Considered by some to be his masterpiece, Symphony No. 5 has for instance been described as 'an epilogue or coda inspired by the music of late Romantic composers such as Gustav Mahler.'